


You Only Die Twice

by Tarlan



Series: Stalking Grounds [2]
Category: Lost Boys (1987)
Genre: Angst, Community: smallfandomfest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-08
Updated: 2012-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-29 05:33:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/316356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael waits and hopes that David will come back from the dead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Only Die Twice

**Author's Note:**

> Written for SmallFandomFest FEST10 2011-12

The last weak ray of sunlight faded until the only remaining light was from the small oil lamp he had lit earlier. Michael settled back down to wait with David lying cold and lifeless in his arms. The lamp cast orange shadows over a face that held such terrible innocence in death, adding a slightly demonic edge to David's angelic features.

In the flickering light, Michael studied David carefully, hoping to see a return to awareness. He leaned over and pressed a kiss against the soft, cold lips finding them still unresponsive, and Michael sighed. There was so much lore about vampires that he didn't know what to believe any more--apart from the fact they did exist. The Frog brothers had spouted so much more and not all of it had made sense at the time, or even worked. He had hoped, though, that removing the animal horns that had impaled David's body would bring him back. However, the sun had set and where before David and the others would have risen almost immediately, eager to taste the sweetness of the night, here he remained cold and unmoving.

"I wanted you to live again," Michael whispered as he brushed his fingertips over the high cheekbones and into the blond hair.

With hope fading fast. Michael leaned in until their foreheads met, wishing he could breathe life back into the cold figure, and he stayed that way until his back ached from the strain of holding that one position. Gently, he placed David's head back down on a musty pillow and stood up, stretching to ease the kinks out of his back and shoulders.

As the night wore on, he pottered around the decaying lobby of the long buried hotel, absentmindedly touching the possessions littering the place that David and the others had brought to their nest. Some were obvious mementos from their kills--pieces of swastika jewelry from the group on the beach that night, matching sweetheart necklaces from young hapless couples, and signet rings from male victims. He wondered how they had carried the larger furnishings into the partially collapsed lobby, such as the only slightly mildewed bed with its clean, soft mattress, or the dresser standing in the deepening shadows that was far too ornate to have been part of the original hotel. He knew the dresser was likely from the home of a victim, perhaps from one of the older houses that had once lined the coast road up to the hotel before the earthquake in the 1900s had sent this hotel and so many of those houses tumbling into the sea.

Picking up a piece of wood to add to the fire he was building, Michael swore and sucked on his finger as a rusty nail tore the skin. The Frog brothers said he was no longer a vampire, and yet the taste of his blood sent a shockwave of pleasure through his body, leaving him hard and gasping. He had a thought as he stared at the blood beading on his finger.

Kneeling down beside David, he wiped his finger over the cold lips, leaving a smear of his blood that was livid against the pale flesh.

Nothing.

Closing his eyes for courage, Michael deepened the cut so the blood ran more freely, letting the droplets fall onto the slightly parted lips. The dart of a tongue was too quick for Michael to see but he felt it against the pad of his finger. A split second later, Michael was on his back with just a fleeting impression of David's vampiric face and sharp incisors above him. He cried out as sharp teeth sank deep into his throat, growing weak and cold as David drained the blood from his body.

"David!" He cried out weakly as death slowly drew a curtain over his eyes and thoughts, only to feel the savage sucking slow and finally stop, leaving him on the razor edge of death.

"Michael?"

A tongue lapped at his throat and when Michael opened heavy eyes, he saw David's angelic face above him, looking confused and wary. David snarled angrily. In a rush he was gone, leaving Michael alone and dying on the dirty floor of the abandoned hotel lobby. Time seemed to lose all meaning as he drifted closer to death, feeling the drag of his mind and body down into an eternal sleep.

Movement beside him made him force his eyes back open to find David holding him again. He looked flushed and felt warm to the touch. His eyes were bright and intensely focused on Michael, and when David ordered him to drink, Michael had no strength to refuse even if he wanted; the warm flesh and the salty, metallic tang of blood pressed against his lips. He thought he heard a whimper as he drank like a man dying of thirst in a desert.

The next time his eyes opened, he saw a small fire burning brightly, with flames licking at the dry wood carefully added to the fire. It crackled and popped occasionally, sending tiny showers of sparks upwards that glittered like gold, red and orange starlight. A shadow detached itself from the deeper ones surrounding him and he recognized David before the other had knelt down beside him.

"Why?" David asked, and the only answer Michael could give was drawing David down into his arms and pressing a kiss against his now warm and responsive lips.

"It took me until your death to realize it was never Star that interested me."

"No. Not dead." David smiled, reaching out to brush his ragged fingernail over Michael's lips. "You can only die twice... and I'm still here." David cocked his head to one side and frowned. "I feel different though. Free."

"Max is dead."

David glanced at him. "Are you so sure?"

"Yeah. They burned the remains of his body."

"Then I am free... after all these years."

Remembering something, Michael dug into his jeans pocket and took out the crumpled newspaper clipping he had stolen from the library, and he showed it to David.

"Is it you?"

David laughed as his finger traced over the grainy face of a young man in a porter's uniform, standing in the sunshine outside this very hotel over ninety years earlier.

"Forever young," he murmured before focusing back on Michael. "That was what Max promised before he turned me against my will." He smiled wryly at Michael. "You know you're not human anymore." He glanced over his shoulder, and only then did Michael see the dead body with its pale arm bloodied and torn by sharp teeth. His and David's teeth.

Only a day ago he had not wanted this. He had fought to prevent this from happening to him, Star and Laddie. Now, as David pressed another kiss against his lips, he knew he wanted this--and David--forever.

END


End file.
